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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773236">Little Words, Your Highness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Confessions, F/M, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, first time writing fanfiction be gentle, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 23:35:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,806</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27773236</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>George Davidson, heir to the throne, had grown up in a world full of rules and regulations, being told how he had to behave and what he should aspire to be by all those who surrounded him. Watching as the world around him moves while he’s expected to stay perfectly still and never change. </p><p> </p><p> <i>“And who may you be?” George asked, head held high. Sadly, even with his poise the prince couldn’t help but look minute compared to the towering man above him, face hidden behind a white mask with what had to be the most nonsensical design printed lazily onto the face. His blonde hair fighting it’s way to curl around it in tufs.</i></p><p> <i>Without warning the tall man before him got onto his knee and bowed, the sheathed which encased his sword hitting the ground. </i></p><p> <i>“I am Clay Tógadh Aisling, I was assigned by the Queen to protect you from all threats that may come your way. I am at your service.”</i></p><p>  <i>George’s breath hitched.</i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream &amp; GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Niki | Nihachu &amp; Wilbur Soot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Words that'll melt in your hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Series titled after - Little Words by The Happy Fits<br/>Chapter titled after - Undercover Martyn by Two Door Cinema Club</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George had never been one for frivolous things, he was more practical in a manner most people with his level of influence and wealth wouldn’t be. He had grown up accustomed to the life he lived in, one made up of rules, constructed on an abstract concept of honor George had yet to grasp.</p><p>It was beginning to worry him that he may never grasp said concept, a fear that weighed down his mind to the point it felt physically heavy to bear.</p><p>George was the only son of the prestigious Davidsons, sovereigns of the strongest economic powerhouse the world had ever seen. Or in simpler terms, his parents were king and queen. This of course, making George Davidson the prince. And with being a prince came responsibilities, orders, and of course, honor.</p><p>Growing up George lived a regulated life, taught from a young age about the kingdom he’d one day inherit. He was told to sit up straight, obey those around him but never yield, to appear strong headed and never docile.</p><p>One of his earliest memories was sitting in a private study being lectured by a scrawny and angular woman on how someone of his status should refrain from showing emotional weakness to even his closest companions. He was five.</p><p>He had been laying in bed, contemplating, something he did quite a lot of. Thinking about how he had gotten to where he is now from where he had been, from whom he had been.<br/>
George didn’t want to get out from the safety of his bed, a place where he shared his most intimate moments, thought his most innermost thoughts.</p><p>Moments and thoughts he was forced to shrug off, to act as though they never had happened let alone belonged to him.</p><p>He was a prince, and if he had learned anything from the multitude of tutors hired to educate him growing up, he was not bred for weakness. He was Prince George of the Davidsons, one of regality and power.</p><p>But here, for now at least, he was just George, 24 years old, a teenager like anyone else. For a moment, he let himself imagine that was who he was, nothing more.</p><p>Of course said moment wasn’t real. He had been forced out of his mind and up into the real world by one of the numerous maids of the house knocking on his door.</p><p>“May I come in your majesty?” a soft tempered voice said. One George instinctively IDed as Nikita ‘Niki,’ the head-maid of the household, one of the only ones allowed to enter the quarters of the King, Queen, and of course, the Prince.</p><p>“Yes, you may,” he responded, fixing himself into a sitting position in his bed, to where the silk top of his sleeping wear was exposed to the crisp air of the early morning. His bottom half still safe in the trapped warmth of his blanket.</p><p>Niki cracked open the large oak door and slipped through, bowing to the prince before making her way into the closet which housed his large assortment of dress wear.</p><p>“What will it be today my lord in training? Also I was notified by the Queen to alert you to the fact today is the day where your personal guard is to be assigned, with the increase of violence outside of the kingdom her highness wants someone to be by your side at all times to protect you from attempts on your life. Not to say that would ever happen you know how...” Niki droned on as she sorted out George’s outfit for the day.</p><p>About halfway through her spiel he had begun to zone out and it was only when she had bowed before him once again before leaving the room that he had been brought back to reality.</p><p>The prince had gotten dressed, shedding off his silk nightwear in exchange for a white shirt with a pleated collar and flared sleeves, topping it off with a red velvet coat, edges lined with gold. Looking into his dresser mirror with his soulful eyes, George took a moment to rustle his brown hair into place, positioning his coronet on his head before leaving his room, sighing before closing the oak door.</p><p>He made his way down the grand staircase to the main entryway and then turned into the banquet hall.</p><p>At the head of the table sat his father discussing matters with his advisor, Wilbur Soot, a man who despite his impressive height looked miniscule next to the stout king.</p><p>Across the seemingly mile long table sat his queen, George’s mom. She sat poised and prim looking over countless documents with her glassy eyes, dull like a doll’s, no longer taking in the world but still somehow viewing.</p><p>George took his seat on one of the sides of the grand table between the two opposing worldviews of his adolescence. One being power and control above all else and the other graceful and wise, it was the little things such as this which had been George’s earliest clues into how the world worked.</p><p>Breakfast was served by the royal chef, Nicholas, ‘Nick’ as George referred to him when his parents weren’t present.</p><p>George had in fact given a lot of the staff members nicknames in an attempt to make the palace they lived in more familiar, it hadn’t worked with everyone, but with others it may have worked too well. This being made apparent by some of the personal attendants/knights in training, mainly Toby ‘Tubbo’ and Thomas ‘Tommy’, becoming a little too friendly with him.</p><p>This of course led to countless lectures from his mother. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the little rascals’s company.</p><p>Breakfast, once again, was eaten in silence, George digging into his eggs at a rather slow pace so as to not disturb his respective parent’s work.</p><p>There was once a time in his life where George had wanted companionship, distant parental figures don’t make for the best company. But he had never been allowed to really get close to anyone, his parent’s wishes of course.</p><p>They wanted him to be such as themselves, distant and unfeeling towards the world. It made him wonder if they had ever truly loved each other, or had been forced together for political reasons.</p><p>He knew it was the latter but he could never admit it to himself, the deafening truth, that he was heading towards an avoidable marriage to someone in which would most likely reflect the ideals of his parents back into his life.</p><p>As frustrating and despair inducing as the thought was, it was futile to resist. So he finished his meal, thanked the chef and excused himself from the table. But not before his mother lifted her head to scrutinize him in a way only a mother could do.</p><p>“I expect you to be proper and sharp at 5 o’clock you are to meet your assigned knight in the dining hall. I will expect nothing but the utmost elegance at all times, he will be accompanying you for the time being. Carry on,” she pronounced with a voice made of cotton and knives.</p><p>With chills down his spine George left the banquet hall.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey hails here, so this is my first fanfic I've ever actually put effort into completion.<br/>The chapters will be longer in the future with the prologue (this chapter), and and the epilogue (final chapter) being the exceptions.<br/>I am always open to criticism, helpful tips, and ideas you guys would like to see included.<br/>Thank you to everyone for giving my fic a chance!! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. But I took my skin for granted</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title changed for anyone who read it before, posts for chapters will be every Sunday to Monday. Thank you for everyone for standing by!!</p><p> </p><p>Chapter named after - Aesthetic? (More Like Ass-Pathetic) by Panucci's Pizza</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>George spent his day as he had spent every other day before, and most likely how he’d spend the rest of them until he was married to a princess to strengthen political bounds, attending lectures. </p><p>He was taught by a spectrum of characters throughout his twenty-four years of living. As he had gotten older, his parents had seen it fit to assign him the King’s advisor, Wilbur Soot, as a tutor. Figuring it would help their son a great lot to be taught by someone with experience and know how on the inner workings of the kingdom. </p><p>	This had bothered the young prince at first, he figured his parents had underestimated his ability to function at or accomplish anything once again. But he had grown accustomed to Wilbur’s strong british accent, the way he laced words with wit and passion for what he spoke of. Though he often worked to maintain composure and a monotone way of speech it was never enough to stop his pure and utter adoration of what he talked about from spilling over, tainting his words. He possessed a passion that was foreign to George, it was inspirational. </p><p>	“...and that is how La Pucelle d'Orléans meet tragedy at her untimely demise, burned at the stake for her pure sense of nationalism, a prideful thing to behold but a deadly curse all the same...... Are you still with me your highness?” Wilbur, or Professor Soot as he had asked George to refer to him as, asked. </p><p>He took the unrequited silence as a no and brought his fingers together and snapped them together. George bolted upright in his seat at the sound, clearly startled, tearing his eyes away from the window he had been gazing out of. <br/>	“Why yes a truly tragic tale demonstrating one's devotion to their people yet downfall all the same,” George rather unbecomingly stumbles into a coherent thought to appease the not so jovial looking Professor Soot. </p><p>	“Well spoken your highness,” he said in a sarcastic yet somehow playful tone, “Now enlighten me on a simple query I seem to have.”</p><p>“Yes, why of course Professor, what is it that you need me to clarify?” the prince replied, tension seeping into the air. </p><p>“Were you learning from my lecture on the heroine of France, or were you simply listening to what I had to say?”</p><p>“Wha..” George spluttered, caught off guard by the seemingly nonsensical question presented to him, “I am unaware of a difference, I responded to what you had to say with what I had been told...shouldn’t that be considered enough?”</p><p>His professor gave him a look. “George I am well aware of the pressures put on you by your parents, the expectations and responsibilities. It isn’t all there is to life, one day you’ll come to a turning point in your life where you will exist at your own violation.”</p><p>“I highly doubt I’d be given a chance at that.”</p><p>The professor gave him a look highlighting the heavy bags under his coal like eyes, “Are you going to let me finish?” he said with a slightly irritated gasp. </p><p>George opened his mouth to respond but closed it, deciding it would be better just to listen.<br/>“As I was saying, you’re never going to be able to decide things for yourself without knowing the history of others and the rewards or consequences they faced. Can you really say that you’ll aim for the sky or shoot without knowing your opponent?”</p><p>“I guess I don’t quite understand what you mean Professor,” the prince replied carefully, scared to disappoint who he held high regards for. </p><p>“I apologize for that, I got carried away with what I was saying,” he paused, raising his hand to rub his eyes, “I know you may have been born into nobility, your highness, nevertheless you are still only a kid. You’re going to need people there to support you, and god bless our heavenly monarchs, they haven’t done a very good job. What I mean to say is, if there’s anything you ever need to talk about or any questions you may need answers to I’m here to support you.”</p><p>This stroke accord with the prince, he couldn’t recall the last time someone had talked to him regarding the reality that he himself was not in fact an invincible being bred for power. Wilbur Soot saw him, the thought of it was terrifying yet oddly tranquil to George. </p><p>“Thank you Professor, I’ll have to keep that in mind,” he finally mustered up the words to say with a cautious smile.</p><p>“Please, call me Wilbur,” the so-called Wilbur replied softly with hinted hope, he smiled at George, “I know you’re going to be able to do great things your highness. You just need time.” </p><p>And with that they had fallen into a comfortable silence, it meant a lot more to the young prince than he was letting on. It was the unusual kind of happiness brought on by understanding, unusual but welcome. </p><p>Sad thing is it wasn’t meant to last. There was snickering echoing down the hall, followed by an impudent knock at the door. Both of which happened to belong to no other than Tommy, a personal attendant of the court. Followed closely by the other culprit, and yet another personal attendant, Tubbo. </p><p>“We are here to remind you of your meeting with your assigned knight at 5 o’clock Big G,” announced Tommy in the most masculine voice he could muster. Tubbo standing at his side sniffling, obviously trying to stifle his laughter as much as possible. He was failing. Tommy looked over George with his piercing silver eyes looking for the slightest bit of irritation to prey off of. </p><p>“Thank you for the reminder Thomas, I will be there after my lecture,” he replied without even sparing a glance at the blonde and brunette. Instead staying focused on his professor who had become rather annoyed at the young boy's antics. </p><p>“Oh come on Gogy don’t be like that, Tommy was only jesting,” Tubbo adds nonchalantly using one of their many nicknames for George. With Tubbo you could never really tell when he was being serious or when he was joking, well, Tommy could tell.</p><p>Wilbur cleared his throat directing attention back to himself, “Please boys, I am in the middle of a lesson with our prince. If his meeting with the assigned knight isn't until later then why interrupt us?” </p><p>“But Wilburrrrrrrrrrrrr,” Tommy pleaded, rolling the r in his name playfully, “It’s already 10 to 5, he’s going to be lateeeeee!!” Tommy finishes off his statement, a rather loud statement, by pointing at the candle used to keep time. And just as he said it was almost time.</p><p>George felt a spike of anxiety at the thought of being late, god his mother was going to have his head. He hurriedly thanked Wilbur for the lesson and quickly made his way to the dining hall in long strides. Maintaining a princely stature while slowly detailing in his head how much he’d, to put it politely, fucked up by not paying attention to the time. </p><p>As the sounds of bickering from the odd pair and his professor dwindled into the background he slowly made his way down the giant corridors. </p><p>------</p><p>	Breathing deeply through his nose, struggling to compose himself before entering the dining hall, George pressed his body into the wall stabilizing himself. He felt guilty for showing weakness outside of his room, in a place where everyone would be able to see how truly fragile he was, nothing like who he was supposed to be. </p><p>	It took him a minute but he had controlled his breathing and felt the tremors of his worries slowly cease. He made his way into the dining hall, where his mother stood, prudent as ever, beside someone much taller leaning on the wall in a carefree manner. </p><p>George felt his world go stale as his mother spoke, “Nice of you to join us,” he could taste the malice intertwined with her words, but was it her words, or her. </p><p>“Please excuse my insolence your highness, I was held back by my lessons,” George cleared his voice, bowing slightly for his mother.</p><p>She snapped her boney fingers together and the man lazing to her side sprung to attention, standing tall, too tall for George’s preference. He attempted not to feel anything at the revelation, but he felt intimidation trickle into his thoughts. </p><p>“Introduce yourself knight, I’ll be in my quarters if I am needed,” she said referring to George, irking him once again by never referring to him as name. Had it always been this way? </p><p>She walked away with the click of her shoes echoing down the hall, once again reminding George of the beating of his heart and that in his skull. He took a deep breath and turned to face the towering man behind him. </p><p>“And who may you be?” George asked, head held high. Sadly, even with his poise the prince couldn’t help but look minute compared to the towering man above him, face hidden behind a white mask with what had to be the most nonsensical design printed lazily onto the face. His blonde hair fighting it’s way to curl around it in tufts. </p><p>Without warning the tall man before him got onto his knee and bowed, the sheathed which encased his sword hitting the ground. </p><p>“I am Clay Tógadh Aisling, I was assigned by the Queen to protect you from all threats that may come your way. I am at your service.”</p><p>George’s breath hitched.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We finally get to meet Dream, god this has been a long time coming. <br/>I feel like there's a lot I can do to improve but where I am now is a good jumping off point. <br/>I want to make a slow burn because it always feels so unrealistic to me when characters fall for each other after a day of knowing each other. <br/>If there are any suggestions for tags to add to the story or for edits/changes to the story please comment I'd love to hear ideas and criticisms. <br/>&lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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